Soul and Maka: Fifty Things
by DemonClowSorceress
Summary: Number eleven in the Fifty Things group! Soul Eater and Maka Albarn, strut your stuff! Rated T for what will probably show up.
1. Prompts

**Soul and Maka: Fifty Things**

**By: DemonClowSorceress**

**Number eleven is here! Since I'm on such a _Soul Eater _kick, it's time for Soul Eater Evans and Maka Albarn!**

**Disclaimer: _Soul Eater_ is not mine**.

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#1 - Bicker

People thought they wouldn't last long enough to nail one pre-kishin.

#2 - Grade

Honestly, it's a miracle she had any time to eat or sleep.

#3 - Assets

Liz snickered at her embarrassment. "You got 'em, so flaunt 'em!"

#4 - Church

They couldn't look at one the same way ever again.

#5 - Record

Biting her lip, Maka hoped she didn't screw up as she set needle to vinyl.

#6 - Infirmary

It's not a great place to wake up alone in. They know all too well.

#7 - Sins

He's guilty of them all, and Maka's totally to blame.

#8 - OCD

Kidd's itchy fingers made him ask, "Maka, what in Death's name made your pigtails lopsided? They're usually so symmetrical!"

#9 - Leader

In their partnership, it depended on the situation.

#10 - Begging

"Please, Soul...for me?"

#11 - Arrangements

To be honest, the thought of living with a male was almost repulsive, even if the male was her weapon partner. But living with Soul managed to change her tune.

#12 - Eater

It's a strange surname to choose, but it did make him sound incredibly cool.

#13 - Intimidate

The boy went pale as a ghost as the blade did its work.

#14 - Grigori

It was like painting a giant target on her back.

#15 - Cool

She hated that word, hated the line it drew between him and her.

#16 - Meeting

Neither of them ever regretted what brought them to this moment.

#17 - Truth

He can't keep denying it when the facts are staring him in the face.

#18 - Spirit

Sometimes it took all he had to not knock that scythe's head off.

#19 - Uniform

"Why do you keep wearing that uncool outfit?"

#20 - Reaper

Her silhouette inspired the greatest kind of fear.

#21 - Abuse

You need a tough hide to deal with his/her crap day in and day out.

#22 - Family

A meister, a weapon, and a magical cat. Dysfunctional, yes, but they were all each other had.

#23 - Slap

No Maka-chop hurt more than the strike to his cheek.

#24 - Evans

When the limousine crawled through Death City's streets towards them, Maka saw Soul's face blanch whiter than his hair.

#25 - Insanity

She prayed to whatever deity was listening that her mad idea would work.

#26 - Theme

"Whoever's humming that song is going to die violently," growled Soul, ignoring Maka's giggles.

#27 - Recital

Now she understood why he hated playing for an audience.

#28 - Kami

"So you're the infamous Soul Eater."

#29 - Reassignment

Deathscythes had obligations, but Soul didn't give a damn. He just wanted to go home.

#30 - Shaken

She jumped at the smallest noise for weeks.

#31 - Movie

Why he continued to pick horror when her head always ended up buried in his chest in fear was beyond her.

#32 - Vegas

"You've lived in Nevada all your life and you've never been in a casino?"

#33 - Mop

She had a lot of explaining to do.

#34 - Scream

She can't be gone. She can't!

#35 - Nightmares

The screams brought her running.

#36 - Nosebleed

When his scantily-clad meister came out, Soul was torn between killing Blair or thanking her.

#37 - Handcuffs

"Kinky," Stein smirked when Soul and Maka walked into class, bound by the spelled silver bracelets. "Rough night?"

#38 - Legacy

It's hard to live up to your parents when the bar is set so high.

#39 - Judging

He must be stupid or something if he's attracted to flat-chested, gangly, plain as a..._oh wait_.

#40 - Eyeroll

To the casual observer, they were clearly more than "just partners."

#41 - Tease

Soul almost stopped breathing when he opened his eyes. _This cannot be happening..._

#42 - Oni

That annoying little thing sometimes ruined the best moments.

#43 - Decision

When that day came, it was actually easier to make the right choice.

#44 - Valentine

Her heart practically stopped when her cooler-than-thou Soul actually did it.

#45 - Lessons

His surprise at her gift made this the best birthday ever.

#46 - Scar

"Does it...does it hurt anymore?"

#47 - Moon

It saw many of their battles, both work-related and not.

#48 - Hoops

Black*Star's expression was priceless as he screeched, "NO! You cannot defeat your god!"

#49 - Motorcycle

"SOUL! WE'RE GOING TOO FAAAAAAAAST!"

#50 - Partners

He'll never abandon her. She'll never let him go.

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**I'm pretty sure of the answer, but I'll ask anyway - anyone want some one-shots with these? Click the blue button and tell me!**


	2. Bicker

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Soul Eater _or any of the characters. Shame, Soul's real cute...and a badass scythe...**

**Prompt #1: Bicker - People thought they wouldn't last long enough to nail one pre-kishin.**

**Words: 667**

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When it got around Shibusen that Maka Albarn, meister child of Kami and Spirit "Deathscythe" Albarn, had partnered with newcomer Demon Scythe Soul Eater, several people called shenanigans. All the meisters could clearly remember the surly white-haired punk who rebuffed all attempts at socializing, and all the weapons recalled how Soul didn't open up about anything while they were waiting to meet their partners. Nobody could understand how that antisocial stick-in-the-mud could have landed himself a prodigy like Maka.

But she had, and he had, and there it was in the registry.

Lessons with them were like watching a dog try to bait a cat into a fight. Maka would snap and snarl at Soul to pay attention and contribute; he'd just sleep or daydream or mess around with Black*Star all class long. When they did interact, it always ended in a bad argument. She'd yell and threaten him with a large hardcover book. He'd yawn and insult her lack of feminine figure.

Nobody expected them to stick with the other. Maka's infamous intolerance of the male race was already legendary. Who could blame her? Everyone knew about her father's indiscretions. The split of Spirit and Kami Albarn was gossip in Death City long before the final papers were signed. And Soul was an accomplished loner, secretive about his past and not willing to open up to anyone about anything. Why would he stay with an outgoing person like Maka?

Besides, they were complete opposites. She was bookish, no-nonsense, and strove for excellence all the time. He was a slacker who exuded an aura of "no hurry, no rush, no pressure" that could only be described as cool.

But she was going to prove herself capable, and he was going to prove he was cool, and so they stayed partners.

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Their first mission was a fairly low-level one; take out a pre-kishin that was terrorizing a city. Almost a local case. People watched the bickering pair climb on Soul's orange motorbike and take off in a cloud of dust, and they couldn't help but think: _Well this is gonna end badly_.

They stumbled back into Death City five days later, exhausted and not a little injured, the little red soul safely in Soul's belly. For a rookie pair, they managed to do quite an efficient job, with no added loss of life and no life-threatening injuries to themselves.

But it wasn't the fact that they were alive that stunned people. It was something far, far more surprising than that.

Maka sniped about how sloppy their teamwork was, but her voice wasn't as cutting as it had been before. Soul griped about how uncool he'd been saving her hide, but his tone wasn't as cold as before. The distance between them wasn't as noticeable. Their interaction didn't seem as forced or as hostile as before.

That's when people know that they are looking at a pair that would make Death City history in the years to come. Something had changed between them, and now, for better or worse, they were bound to each other by their very souls.

Creating a Soul Resonance for the first time leaves an indelible mark on both parties involved. Boundaries are shattered, shields are lowered, and a person's fundamental state of being is forever altered from the act of completely resonating with another person's soul. They don't realize it themselves, but the act changes both the meister and the weapon in every way.

Maybe that's why Maka held out her hand to the white-haired boy that night after hearing his strange, dark music.

Maybe that's why Soul took the hand of the pigtailed blonde meister that night after she said she liked his music.

They had found that one person who could complete them.

Even if they hadn't known it yet.

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**Here we go!**

**You know the drill! Please review!**


	3. Grade

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Soul Eater._**

**Prompt #2: Grade - ****Honestly, it's a miracle she had any time to eat or sleep.**

**Words: 529**

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It wasn't that Soul was a bad student. Quite the opposite. Back home he managed to achieve close to pretty good grades on most of his assignments. That had been for show, sure, but he was perfectly capable of applying himself.

Here, however, he really couldn't bring himself to give a crap about school. How the hell was Algebra supposed to help him locate pre-kishin? That's right, it wouldn't. So why bother stuffing his brain with something as useless as that?

Maka cared about academics and the like, and since the grading system was the average of the meister and weapon's grades, his low scores meant she had to work extra-hard to be perfect. And she liked racking up those perfect scores, because it showed everyone that she was the brains in their partnership, and Soul was fine with being the brawn. He was a Demon Scythe, a weapon in human form that served his meister and combated the dark forces of madness and evil.

Besides, he had his own brand of intelligence. He knew important and practical things, like knowing which back roads and alleys could cut almost half an hour out of travel time. How to figure out what leads are possible and which are crap. How to stretch their money when a simple two-day hunt drags out into a week-long chore. How to keep his meister calm and focused when the pre-kishin starts taunting her about uncool things.

So he let Maka handle the academic side of things, and kept his focus on keeping her alive when they went out in the field. She was smart, a genius, but sometimes her book smarts didn't cut it in the real world. When she faltered, he was there to pick up the slack. That was another reason why they made such an excellent pair.

But sometimes he'd be heading to bed and see her light still on, a dictionary open and paper strewn across her desk as she scribbled away at some essay or report due the next day. Her eyes would be bloodshot and her hair mussed, her tongue caught between her lips in a focused expression that would send guilt shooting through Soul's scarred chest. He'd watch her power through extra-credit homework in an attempt to raise their grade night after night and never complain, not even when the circles under her eyes got darker and the increasing yawns threatened to dislocate her lower jaw.

When Maka got sick after pulling a series of all-nighters, that was it. Soul all but pried her from her desk, forced her to change into pajamas, and put her to bed. Then he swallowed his pride and his coolness, picked up his pen, and did enough homework to give their combined grade enough of a boost for Maka to take a much-needed break. The next morning, he cooked her breakfast and left a note ordering her to stay home, don't worry about the homework because he'd taken care of everything, and to get some rest.

After all, what were partners for?

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**I have a feeling this could actually happen. Don't you?**

**Review please!**


	4. Assets

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Soul Eater._**

**Prompt #3: Assets - Liz snickered at her embarrassment. "You got 'em, so flaunt 'em!"**

**Words: 739**

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Maka watched in horror as Liz Thompson tore through her dresser drawers and closet with the delicacy of an F-5 tornado. What the Demon Pistol called a "fashion intervention" was what Maka classified as "most of her wardrobe being tossed into the donation or burn pile." There were only a few articles of clothing that survived the purge, and they were the few tanktops and shorts that she saved for lounging around the apartment.

"Now we go out and totally pimp out your style," Liz announced once she finished.

"What style?" Maka squeaked, still in shock from the annihilation. "You've thrown out all my clothes."

"Your new sexy style that will bring all the boys to your yard. Now come on." Maka started to balk, but Liz just clamped one hand on her wrist and pulled her along like a child dragging a rag doll. "Trust me, you're gonna knock 'em dead when I'm done making you over."

So Maka was subjected to being dragged through the mall and stuffed into every type of outfit known to womankind. After a while she resigned herself to the mission and stopped complaining. She even got into the spirit and tried out a few outfits of her own.

"I'm so proud of you," Liz said in a trembling voice, her fingers touching her cheeks as she beamed at Maka like a proud mother. "You've finally embraced that oldest and proudest rule of womanhood."

"Lemme guess. Always shop using your guy's limitless credit card?" Maka asked tiredly, silently cursing Kidd for letting Liz anywhere near that damn black card.

"Nope, an even older tradition," the taller girl stated. "When you got 'em..." She flagrantly cupped her own boobs and then slapped her rear, winking saucily as Maka's cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "You gotta flaunt 'em!"

"And why does this suddenly require a complete overhaul on my wardrobe?"

"Because I'll be damned if you don't get laid simply because you can't dress to show off the goods." With that declaration, she threw another set of clothes at the meister and said, "Now here. Try these on and lemme see how they look."

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Soul almost choked on his tea when Maka stomped into the apartment around dinnertime, hauling seven enormous shopping bags and wearing a completely different outfit. The midriff-baring crop top was something in itself, but coupled with the ripped white jean shorts, the beaded belt knotted at her waist, and her knee-high black leather boots, the Maka standing in the living room was an altogether different sort of Maka.

For one thing, she was actually sexy-looking. The top hung loose, but it was tight enough to showcase the modest breasts that she always managed to hide beneath sweaters and trench coats. The shorts showed off her shapely legs and butt, and the colorful belt drew attention to her waist and the cream-colored strip of skin exposed by the crop top's short hem. The boots had enough heel to really boost her figure and had small buckles around her ankles.

"Liz," she bit out shortly by way of explanation. "She came over, threw out all my clothes and took me shopping."

He didn't have time to be embarrassed when his mouth said, "Remind me to thank her."

Maka's eyes narrowed angrily, but when he didn't follow up with a teasing remark, a faint red flushed across her cheeks. "I must l-l-look ridiculous," she stammered.

"Trust me, you don't." Soul let his eyes drag over her body once, showing his appreciation with a wide toothy smile. "What prompted this makeover?"

Her face color darkened to match the shell of a boiled lobster. "Sh-sh-she said I'd never g-g-get laid if I didn't sh-show off my...my g-g-g-goods." The words were barely understandable, she was so mortified.

"...And you didn't tell her off?"

"Shut up!" Maka screeched, grabbing a pillow from the sofa and chucking it at his head. "As if I'm thinking about that sort of thing!" she said, picking up her bags and heading for her room. Soul couldn't help staring at her rear as she strutted out.

_Damn, I gotta thank Liz for finally nixing the skirts. Now those horny jerks at school can't catch a panty flash_.

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**Hahaha! This was fun to write!**

**Review please!**


	5. Church

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Soul Eater._**

**Prompt #4: Church - They couldn't look at one the same way ever again.**

**Words: 536**

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The pair stood ramrod-straight on the sidewalk, staring up at the building as if waiting for it to lunge out and attack. Soul glanced over at his meister and back at the church, then cleared his throat and said, "Ecclesiophobia."

Maka looked over at her weapon partner. "Come again?"

"Ecclesiophobia. It means fear of churches."

"I know what it means," she snapped. Biting her lower lip, she shook her head and quickly added, "Sorry, I didn't mean to - "

"Hey, I know," Soul said gently. "I know, Maka."

"It's just - " Her gaze landed on Soul's chest and couldn't help wincing in guilt. "After that night in Italy...I haven't been able to step inside one. I can't even look at one without breaking into a cold sweat." When she met his gaze, her shoulder lifted in an awkward shrug. "It's stupid, right?"

"Nah." He reached over and touched her fingers. "It's tough for me too, you know."

The ash-blonde meister blinked in surprise at this admission. "You?"

He nodded. "Remember, I was the one who actually got hurt on our last jaunt in a Gothic church."

"I know, but..." Realizing how lame it sounded in her mind, Maka couldn't help saying, "You've never mentioned having an issue before."

"We've never had a job in a church until now, so it hasn't really been an issue." Soul shrugged and admitted, "Tell the truth, I think Lord Death actually planned it so we never had to step foot in another church."

Licking her lips, Maka let her eyes return to stare at the imposing structure that towered above their heads. Even though she could tell that nothing evil lurked inside the church, her entire body trembled like a leaf. "I sometimes have nightmares," she confided quietly. "Not as often as I did before, but sometimes I'll dream that I'm back in that church, watching you bleed out on the floor as I stare at the cross against the stained glass window..."

Her panic subsided as Soul's hand moved to cover hers completely, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "I haven't been able to go near one since...since that night," he said softly. "I keep freezing up, and the memories overwhelm me, and I can't breathe right until I'm almost two blocks away." Hesitantly his fingers curled over hers, and Maka eagerly grasped his hand and interlaced their fingers, squeezing slightly in an effort to comfort him.

They stood quietly for a few minutes before she broke the silence. "D'you think it's always going to be like this?"

"Hopefully not," he replied. "But either way, we can face it together. Just like we always do."

"Yeah." Maka inhaled and slowly let out her breath. "Ecclesiophobia, huh?"

"That's what it's called."

Another beat of silence, then she said, "Phobias can be overcome."

"That's true."

"And we can probably do it."

"Definitely."

Meister and weapon shared a look, took a deep breath, and squeezed each other's hands tightly in reassurance. Fixing their eyes again on the church, they strode toward the large front doors.

Together.

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**I have a headcanon that they're still a little shaky around churches, so this is my take on what would happen if they had to go in another one.**

**Review please!**


	6. Record

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Soul Eater _or the characters, but I will claim this AU as part of my Rain-Soaked Tears story.**

**Prompt #5: Record - Biting her lip, Maka hoped she didn't screw up as she set needle to vinyl.**

**Words: 788**

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Maka looked around furtively before opening the cabinet doors wide. She didn't want Soul to walk in on her looking through his vinyl collection. But Soul wasn't home. Today was Wednesday, and that was when he was out giving piano lessons to somebody in Death City (was it Molly today? Or Charles? Or Mortimor? He had quite a few clients and she couldn't remember who was on what day yet) That meant he was out of the apartment for at least three hours. Plenty of time to be nosy and not get caught.

An hour later, Maka was surrounded by records and eagerly reading every sleeve. The records to be a fascinating window into her albino roommate's strange taste in music. Everything was some sort of jazz or classical piece, none of which were familiar to her, and every single one featured the piano in one way or another.

One record in particular caught her eye. It had no elaborate cover art on the sleeve, only a handwritten tag that read "Clair de Lune, Debussy, C., S.E" in an elegant script. Curious about the contents - her limited knowledge of French told her that Clair de Lune meant "moonlight" and she remembered reading a poem of the same name once upon a time - Maka set the vinyl disc on the record player and gently set the needle on the outermost ring as she'd seen Soul do.

What followed could only be described as entrancing. Despite the title, the piano seemed to hold a darkness that reminded Maka of Soul's own playing. _No wonder this one is here, _she thought. _A classical piece that has the same style as he does - _

"_That's not right!_"

Maka jumped in shock at the harsh masculine voice that burst from the speaker. The music came to a discordant halt, like the musician snatched his or her hands off the keys mid-note. Maka frowned at the record, then looked at the plain sleeve. "A home recording?" she mumbled.

"_You've played this piece almost fifty times and you still fuck up at the coda? What the hell is wrong with you?_"

"_I - I wanted to make it better,_" came another voice, younger and softer and apologetic. A timid voice that clearly painted the picture of a cowering child, flinching from the yelling older male.

"_You're not good enough to embellish, so don't!_" yelled the first male voice. "_Play the music as it's written! None of this make-it-up shit! Now do it again!_"

"_Y-Yes sir._"

"I thought he got rid of that one." Maka flinched at the sound of Blair's voice behind her, but the busty waitress wasn't reproachful. Her bare feet made no sound as she joined Maka in front of the record player. "He was eight when that happened."

"Wait, the second voice was Soul?" Maka asked, astonished. "So the other man is..."

"His father, yeah. My uncle. Hoity-toity stick-in-the-mud with a matching stick shoved up his tight ass." Blair's caustic voice made the younger girl recoil in surprise. "He's a grand concert pianist too, an international sensation before he was thirty, and he was always hard on Soul to be as perfect a genius as he was."

Maka listened as the child Soul replayed the beautiful piece once more, noticing how he played slightly slower and more deliberately than before. "It still sounds beautiful."

"Agreed." Blair sighed. "I know it's weird to say, but...I was so happy when he finally left that place. Soul never really had a life before he ran away from home. All my uncle never cared about was making him ready and pushing him onto the world stage as quickly as possible."

"He was a fool."

"Damn right." She favored Maka with a smile before hugging her tightly and saying, "Thanks for giving him a reason to play again."

Maka awkwardly patted Blair's shoulder until she ended the embrace. "I doubt it's just because I'm here," she said fairly, lifting the needle and taking the disc off the player.

"Yeah. But I sure did miss hearing Soul play." Silence filled the room again as she watched Maka replace the records in the cabinet. "Hey, Maka?"

"What is it, Blair?"

"You know...it's really because you're here that Soul is playing again." Blair smiled knowingly and added, "And Soul doesn't play for just anyone, if you know what I mean."

Thinking that the purple-haired woman was teasing her again, Maka merely shook her head and continued tidying up. She had a few more chores to do before dinner.

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**I meant this to be cute! Why the hell did it turn into a sad peek at Soul's childhood? WHY?**

**Oh well, review anyway!**


	7. Infirmary

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Soul Eater._**

**Prompt #6: Infirmary - It's not a great place to wake up alone in. They know all too well.**

**Words: 566**

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The first thing she sees is the white glare of bandages against tanned skin.

Maka despises the sight. They are stained with red splotches from the wounds that mar his skin. A masterpiece of mortality, and it sickens her every time she sees it.

But for Soul, she ignores it. She sets aside her revulsion and her discomfort and sits at his bedside, waiting for her weapon to wake again.

She knows what it's like to wake up alone in this cold place with bandages covering her limbs and splints holding her bones in place, terrified when she was unable to see her partner anywhere. The horror that she alone survived, that his wounds had been even worse than hers (because he tried to protect her again, the idiot), that Doctor Stein and Miss Nygus couldn't save him -

_Where is he? Soul? SOUL? SOOOOUUUUUL!_

Then he raced through the door like he had the entire Mass of Witches at his heels, his eyes as wide in terror as hers. He'd moved to her side and remained there as she calmed down, reassuring her that yes, he was fine, yes they got the soul, _yes I'm fine, now shut up and go back to sleep, I'm not going anywhere_.

Now, with Soul in traction and still unconscious from falling over fifteen stories, Maka holds his unbandaged hand in both of hers and ignores the bloodstained linens holding her partner's body together.

Instead, she looks at his messy white hair and begins plotting how to convince him to let her trim it.

* * *

The first thing he hears is the beep-beep-beep of the heart monitor.

Soul hates that sound. It's marking time like a macabre metronome, announcing the pace of Maka's beating heart as if each one could be her last. A morbid lullaby, and he can't stand it.

But for Maka, he tunes it out. He shoves his disgust and his horror away and sits beside her bed, patiently waiting for his meister to awaken.

He knows what it's like to wake up to that noise, wires stretching from the sticky circles tacked to his chest and feeding all his hiccups and heartbeats into the machines, panicking when he couldn't hear a matching heartbeat in the room at all. The terror that she hadn't survived, that he'd failed to protect her again (because she tried to keep him safe as well, the moron), that Doc Stein and Miss Nygus couldn't save her -

_Where's Maka? Where is she? MAKA!_

Then she'd come flying through the door as if fleeing from Asura himself, her face as pale in fright as his. She'd come to his bedside and stayed all night despite looking like hell herself, calming him down and assuring him that yes, she was all right, yes the kishin was dead, _yes I'm staying here, now shut up or I'll Maka Chop you, I'm not going anywhere_.

Now, with Maka hooked up to a breathing device and comatose from an attack on her very soul, Soul holds her limp hand in both of his and ignores the spiking green line that marks his partner's steady heartbeat.

Instead, he listens to her breathing and matches its tempo to the newest composition he's been writing for her.

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**Some hurt-comfort and slight angst. Enjoy!**

**And review! Do that too!**


	8. Sins

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Soul Eater_.**

**Prompt #7: Sins - He's guilty of them all, and Maka's totally to blame.**

**Words: 1,008**

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It was late one night that Soul Eater found himself lying awake, thinking about the Book of Eibon. Specifically, the Chapters in said Book, the sins they represented, and how he was guilty of each sin thanks to knowing one Maka Albarn.

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**Lust**

Born into privilege and accustomed to the best of culture, Soul never wanted to be in the limelight. Everything and everyone flocked to the Evans name like magpies to coins, but they never saw him, only the family name. He lived that existence for most of his life, so all he wanted was to be alone.

Until that fateful day he looked up and saw this scrawny pigtailed twig of a girl watching him play with fascination. She had no idea who he was, not to mention _no_ sex appeal _at all_, but something in her eyes tugged at his heart. When he attempted to scare her away, Maka only smiled and held out her hand to offer him something he could have never expected to find: a friend.

For the first time in his life, his lust for solitude turned into lust for her company.

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**Gluttony**

Eating the best meals prepared by the best chefs had always bored Soul. Perfection was to be expected, so when it appeared, the meal was already ruined for him. It never made him look forward to eating.

Until he moved in with Maka. The girl knew basic cooking, if that, when they first met. Her experiments might've been disastrous first, second and third attempts, but she always tried her hardest and never quit. Even her mistakes tasted delicious because she made them wholeheartedly. Her simple determination translated to their reaping duties, adding a spice to the souls he devoured.

He was a glutton for her simplicity, and he couldn't get enough.

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**Envy**

Envy had been Soul's longtime companion. He'd been envious of Wes's superior skills, not only musically but socially as well. He was bright and charming and able to easily interact with people. Soul was like a shadow, shying away from everyone to keep his secrets hidden and uncomfortable when the limelight was pointed at him.

Until Maka asked him to be her partner. Someone who accepted him for himself, not because he was an Evans, and she dragged him out of the shadows to stand beside her. She had a light that people flocked to, and she never turned away those who were alone.

He envied her ability to accept everyone, even a dark, twisted soul like him.

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**Pride**

He'd never been proud to be a part of his family. Why would he? His parents had Wes, a violin prodigy and a musical genius, and all he had was the dark, haunting music that his hands composed and that nobody ever wanted to hear. He had nothing to be proud of.

Until his weapon blood awoke and he left for Death City. There, nobody knew that he played the piano. Nobody knew he was an Evans. He could re-invent himself as Soul Eater, the "cool" Demon Scythe. For the first time in his life, he was proud of something that wasn't affiliated with the Evans name.

He was proud of his weapon blood, because it led him to Maka.

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**Wrath**

Anger was never one of Soul's issues. He didn't lose his temper often, which led people to assume that nothing made him angry or he just didn't care. Truth be told, nothing had ever enraged him enough to shatter that cool mask of his.

Until Stein threatened to cut into her. His words ignited a rage in Soul that flooded his body with adrenaline. He had crouched over his meister and snarled at the screwhead mad doctor. And that had been early in their partnership. When Giriko had pinned her down in the Chapter of Sloth, Soul had damn near torn the Demon Chainsaw to shreds for touching her.

His wrath knew no bounds when Maka was in danger.

* * *

**Sloth**

Being lazy at home was next to impossible. Perfection couldn't be procrastinated, and thinking back on it, Soul had been remarkable similar to Maka in those short years. He'd been obsessed to finish his work as soon as possible, as perfectly as possible, because if he failed, nobody would be there to take the blame along with him.

Until he partnered with Maka. Within a few short weeks Soul became a master procrastinator. Some of his best work came out of being left at the last moment, and he reveled in the laziness. For once, he could fully relax without worrying about perfection.

He let himself go for the first time in his life, because she was there to help him.

* * *

**Greed**

It didn't do to get attached to people. You have to be willing to move on, drop what holds you down and never look back on your way to greatness. That had been hammered into Soul's mind since childhood.

Until he heard someone had intentions, whether romantic or weapon-based, towards Maka. The thought that someone would take her away was what stirred his lazy ass into action, clearing out her locker of those stupid love letters and partnership requests. All potentials were systematically shot down before they got anywhere near Maka.

He greedily wanted her to be his, and only his.

* * *

"Soul? You okay?"

He looked to see Maka snuggling to his side, wide green eyes reflecting moonlight as they searched his face. "Yeah?"

"What're you thinking about?"

A crooked grin tilted one corner of his mouth upwards, and Soul tightened his embrace around the woman beside him. "Just thinking about how you've saved me," he said.

A cute pout puckered Maka's lips. "Are you teasing me?"

"Nope." And he wasn't. It didn't matter how many times he sinned because of her; as long as she was willing to keep him, he'd tempt damnation.

Maka was the only salvation his soul needed.

* * *

**I really like this Soul-centric!**

**Review please!**


	9. OCD

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Soul Eater_. Dammit.**

**Prompt #8: OCD - Kidd's itchy fingers made him ask, "Maka, what in Death's name made your pigtails lopsided? They're usually so symmetrical!"**

**Words: 566**

* * *

"Kidd really looked like he was about to have a stroke," Black*Star cackled as he chomped on his sandwich. "Did you see how hard his one eye twitched to the side? Like he was possessed or something!"

The rest of Spartoi chuckled as they settled for their weekly group lunch. After the final defeat of Asura, Spartoi had been officially disbanded, but the members still liked to gather for lunch whenever their schedules allowed. Today they convened along a low wall that ran through a grove of sakura trees, and with the trees in full bloom, it was a perfect spring afternoon. Only Kidd, Maka, and Soul were absent this time, and so they were the subject of today's conversation.

"How is Kidd?" Tsubaki asked curiously. "He looked so pale when you and Patti carried him away."

"We took him home and tucked him into bed," said Liz as Patti guzzled lemonade like a woman deprived of liquid for days. "He was still muttering about crooked pigtails and mismatched hair ties when we left."

"I couldn't believe she didn't fix it before getting to school," Kilik remarked as he helped Fire and Thunder with their juice box straws. "Maka knows better than anyone that Kidd notices crap like that."

"Especially when she knows it makes Kid have a full breakdown." Liz rolled her eyes. "Remember, _I'm _the one who's gotta take care of the dork when his brain breaks this bad."

Kim gave a very witchy cackle as she nudged Ox with her elbow. "Probably cuz she and Soul lost track of time? In each other's _arms?"_ Her boyfriend sputtered and blushed bright red at her insinuation.

Sitting with Harvar with a cup of hot tea, Jackie sighed at her meister's obvious delight. "What Maka and Soul do is really none of our business."

"Of course it is!" Black*Star jumped to his feet on the wall and punched the air. "My man Soul is finally getting some! And he's gotta be damn good if he makes Maka look like that hot a mess - OW!" he yelped in pain when an enormous hardback book flew from out of nowhere and slammed into his face like a bottle rocket, sending the assassin to the ground.

"You start shouting about how hot a mess my meister looks, the next encyclopedia gets chucked at your nuts," Soul said as he joined the rest of Spartoi. At the incredulous looks of his friends he said, "What?"

"What the hell did you just do?" Kilik asked.

"I nailed that idiot with a book. Why?"

"Where the hell did you get the book from?"

"It's Maka's. And for your information," he added, pulling out his own lunch, "Maka slept through her alarm and didn't have time to really do her hair. The ride over on the bike didn't really help either. So despite whatever dirty thoughts you all were thinking, nothing happened."

It was clear that everyone thought otherwise, but with Black*Star still lying unconscious with a copy of Webster's still embedded in his smoking skull, nobody dared contradict Soul. Conversation quickly turned to safer topics like the weather and current events, and nobody mentioned the hickey-shaped mark just barely hidden by Soul's collar.

As Jackie had earlier noted, it was none of their business.

* * *

**Here's a double update for you all! Enjoy!**

**And review! Do that too!**


	10. Leader

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Soul Eater._**

**Prompt #9: Leader - In their partnership, it depended on the situation.**

**Words: 1,189**

* * *

_Don't necessarily avoid sharp edges. Occasionally they are necessary to leadership. —Donald Rumsfeld_

This was absurd. He was a scythe, and that was the main reason she picked him as her partner. She'd been trained specifically to handle a scythe.

So why couldn't she pick him up? What was stopping her?

His tone was a combination of irritable and impatient. "_You gonna pick me up anytime soon?_"

"Shut up," Maka snapped as she eyed him carefully. Her fingertips nervously tapped against each other, the only outward sign of her unease.

No, it wasn't uneasiness that had her unwilling to touch Soul. It was fear.

Fear that trusting a male, any male, after her father's betrayal. Fear that Soul would betray her as well. Fear that such a betrayal would be her breaking point, that it would cut too deep for her to heal.

But she was the meister. She had to take control, to lead this partnership. Without her, Soul couldn't be trained, couldn't be used, couldn't become a Deathscythe. She couldn't let him down just because she was afraid.

So, swallowing her fears and doubts and nerves, Maka reached out to grasp the shaft of Soul's weapon form.

* * *

_You don't lead by hitting people over the head—that's assault, not leadership. –Dwight Eisenhower_

The first time she slammed him with a Maka Chop, Soul lost his temper. Corporal punishment had never been a feature in his upbringing, and he sure hadn't expected his new meister to brain him with a dictionary pulled from friggin' nowhere because he made a comment about her lack of figure.

Okay, maybe he had it coming, but what sane person uses a book to hit people? Seriously.

Fortunately, he learned that those Chops weren't just limited to him; her idiot father and Black*Star were fellow recipients, and for far more idiotic reasons. Unfortunately, she had a hair-trigger temper and the ability to yank large books from seemingly nowhere every time that trigger engaged.

It should've been a deal-breaker. Nobody would have thought less of him for it. But she never brained him to prove her leadership, and he really had to learn to watch his smartass remarks anyway, and most importantly of all, she was his meister.

So he dealt with the random bouts of physical assault.

* * *

_He who has learned how to obey will know how to command. —Solon_

She might be the one calling the shots while hunting souls, but Maka knew that on this battlefield, she needed Soul to take the helm.

She was waltzing with a man who clearly had no idea that she was not used to this scene. He talked while dancing too fast, forcing her to think, talk and waltz at the same time while changing direction with the abandon of a spinning top. Panicked and already unsteady in her high heels, Maka had no choice but cling to this fool and try not to trip, or worse, step on his foot.

_C'mon Soul, where are you? _she thought helplessly. _Please, please, PLEASE save me from this joke of a - _

"Excuse me." Maka almost sighed in relief when she heard that familiar lazy drawl over the music. She and her dancing partner both looked over to see Soul extending a hand to Maka like the proper young gentleman he'd been brought up to be, a grin twisting his lips upwards. "Mind if I cut in?"

Her current partner tightened his grip on Maka's hand and hip. "Excuse us, we're trying to dance here."

"Clearly." Red eyes flashed from Maka's to look at the guy. His grin widened to a full smile, displaying his unique teeth. "Why don't you find some other lady to yank around like a pulley train."

"Why you rude little - "

"Walk. Away." There was no mistaking the commanding edge in Soul's voice, like an ice-cold blade being pressed to the skin. "Or you're going to lose a hand."

Her lame-o partner hightailed it out of there faster than a cat fleeing a bath. Maka swallowed hard as Soul took her hand and led her back to the dance floor. "Just follow my lead," he whispered in her ear, and the bottom of her stomach dropped away.

His taking control like this...honest to Death, Maka thought it was kinda sexy.

* * *

_Lead me, follow me, or get out of my way. — General George Patton_

Their latest mission was a joke and a disaster, with extra stupid and a side order of pathetic. Soul couldn't think of another time he'd been so badly injured thanks to meister incompetence. (He didn't count that affair with Crona, that was his own damn fault for jumping in front of Ragnarok) Now, to make matters worse...

"She said WHAT?" he barked into the mirror as he reported to Kid (he just couldn't call him Lord Death, even though he technically was now)

"She says that you overstepped your boundaries as her weapon," Kid said. There was no blame in his voice, just the calm of a man delivering facts. "She claims that your actions directly resulted in the mission's failure."

He had ended up with a broken arm, shattered shin, a gash across his back and a concussion, and the bitch _dared _to say he was the reason their mission had failed? "Bullshit!" Too indecisive for the big decisions and too hung up on the details, Marjorie Kwill had no sense of propriety and whined whenever her clothes got stained in mud or guts.

And this was supposed to be what passed for a three-star meister nowadays?

Kid tilted his head questioningly. "So you gave the order to retreat? Marjorie claims you could have taken the witch out."

"And I knew that witch had a twin sister, Kid. We weren't prepared to take both witches, so I gave the order. When Marjorie tried to force us to fight, I knocked her out and we got the hell out of there."

The young Shinigami chuckled. "That sounds like something Maka would do."

"If Maka had been my meister, five men wouldn't be dead."

"So what are you saying?"

"I might not be as useful a lone Deathscythe, but I won't be led by some idiot too stupid to lead or who won't follow my advice." Red eyes bored into gold ones. "I want Maka back."

"You know that's not - "

"I don't care. I refuse to partner with another incompetent." Soul channeled every scrap of leader-esque strength he'd ever seen from Maka into his ultimatum. "It's Maka or nobody."

* * *

People tend to have different opinions on leadership. Some believe that it is earned, while others believe that it is an obligation. A few believe that leadership can be a burden or a blessing, depending on the circumstances.

But with one particular pair of meister and weapon, the position of leader could technically be considered a tag-team role.

* * *

**I like this! How about you?**

**Review please!**


	11. Begging

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Soul Eater_.**

**Prompt #10: Begging - "Please, Soul...for me?"**

**Words: 278**

* * *

"Soooooouuuuul."

He tried to ignore her plaintitive moan, focusing on fixing the sink like he said he'd do last week.

"Soooooouuuuul, where are youuuuuu?"

"I'm right here, Maka," he relented. "What d'you want?"

"I'm hungry."

"Your point?"

"Cook me something."

"I'm trying to fix the sink."

"But I want your cream of mushroom soooouuuuup."

He rolled his eyes. "Do you have to whine so loud? Geez."

"But I'm hungry, and that soup is crack. What do you put in it?"

"Told you, trade secret."

"Then make some. Pleeeeeaaase?"

Soul heaved a sigh, set down the wrench and sat up to give his roommate an exasperated look. "Maka, I gotta fix this pipe or the sink's gonna keep leaking. Now do you want soup or a working sink?"

She never hesitated. "Soup. Definitely soup."

_Of course she wants soup over a working sink_. Then again, he couldn't blame her. Sick with a bad head cold, Maka was acting very childish. Soul soon learned that bouts of immature demands were frequent in her condition. And apparently she wanted soup.

Sighing, Soul got to his feet. There are very few people who could make Soul drop everything to help them. Top of that list was a sick Maka, and he had a bad feeling that she'd always know it. "Fine. One serving of mushroom soup, coming up."

"Yay!" he heard her cheer happily before another succumbing to another coughing fit. "Souuuuul."

"What?"

"Can I have some mint tea as well?"

Soul rolled his eyes again. "All right, Maka, fine."

"Thank you!" she chirped happily. "You're the best, Soul."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

* * *

**A little peek into the homey life of Soul and Maka from my "Rain Soaked Tears" universe.**

**Review please!**


	12. Arrangements

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Soul Eater_.**

**Prompt #11: Arrangements - To be honest, the thought of living with a male was almost repulsive, even if the male was her weapon partner. But living with Soul managed to change her tune.**

**Words: 939**

* * *

The apartment was perfect and too small at the same time. Maka quickly glanced around what was going to be the living room before making a beeline for the bedrooms. She wanted to claim her territory before Soul could so she had a firm base of operations. She heard him walk down the hall to the other bedroom, make a small hum of no importance, and proceed to start unpacking.

Maka frowned; wasn't he going to complain about the rooms or start throwing his weight around? Demand they switch rooms? Anything?

Apparently not. Maka leaned out her door and peeked into Soul's room. His back was to her, but she could see him laying out his folded clothes with almost obsessive care, sorting shirts and pants and socks into their appropriate piles. His other bag was pushed out of the way, and the only thing out of place was the yellow and black jacket hanging off his bedpost. "Settling in?" she asked.

"Yup."

"The room okay?"

"Yup. Perfect." He didn't _sound_ like he was lying, but men were capable of lying about the smallest things. Her father had proven that.

"We need to go food shopping."

"Okay," Soul said, not turning around. "I'll unpack and then we can go to the market on my bike. No need to haul all those bags back in this heat."

Living with a male was not agreeable with her in any way. But Soul was her weapon partner, and so they had to. Shibusen rules practically mandated it. But it didn't mean Maka had to like the idea. She dumped her belongings on the single bed and huffed an annoyed sigh, already imagining the spotless apartment in the upcoming months. It hurt her brain to even think about it.

_He'll probably leave his dirty clothes all over the place, never clean a damn thing, eat everything in the fridge and not want to go shopping, slouch around and slug about like a useless man, and bring home girls like a kid brings home puppies..._

* * *

**Six Months Later...**

Soul was a boy of many mysteries, but Maka only had an issue with one. He was _too _clean.

Maka frowned as she looked around the apartment. She didn't understand it, but something about Soul's tidiness felt off to her. Like he was trying to impress her. But why? Why would he care? It wasn't like he had anything to prove.

She finally called him out on it when she saw how he replaced the objects he used with almost anal care. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" he asked.

"Make sure everything's in its place."

He looked over at her, and Maka was surprised to see a trace of anxiety in his eyes. It was gone in the next second, replaced with careful carelessness. "You're complaining because I'm neat?"

"Boys don't usually pick up after themselves. Or clean without being told. Or help shop without griping."

"Awful sure of that, are you?" Soul asked curiously. When Maka didn't respond, he shrugged. "I just don't like mess. And if I didn't go shopping with you, you'd never get what I like to eat."

"That's not true."

"It was if you grew up in my house." That was all she got out of him, and Maka decided to leave it at that. They weren't at that stage of sharing, anyway.

* * *

**One Year Later...**

"_So tell me about this weapon of yours_," said her mother over the phone. "_A scythe, yes?_"

"Yes Mama, I'm a Scythe Meister."

"_Is she a competent weapon?_"

Maka grimaced and said, "Soul is a boy, Mama."

That information made Kami's voice turn cold and harsh as a blizzard. "_You took a male weapon? Why?_"

"He was the best scythe there, and we - we connected." A lame explanation of how she had felt hearing his music, but she couldn't find another way.

"_I connected with your father. Doesn't mean that's an indication of a long relationship_."

"Soul is nothing like Papa." And he wasn't. Soul respected her, kept his own mess to a minimum and chipped in with the chores whenever he could. Sure he slacked off in school and acted like the coolest thing since ice cream sandwiches, but he was dependable, solid, and most of all, trustworthy.

Her mother sighed, the sound blowing through the phone in a rush of static. "_I thought you'd select a female weapon so you wouldn't suffer what I did with your father. __I don't want you to be disappointed._"

"I don't think I will." She heard the front door open as Soul called out her name. "I need to go now. Goodbye, Mama."

Soul was unpacking the groceries when she came into the kitchen. "Your mom okay?" he asked without turning around.

"Yeah, just calling to see how I was." Maka leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. "Soul?"

"Yeah?"

"Am I...a good roommate?"

His shoulder shrugged. "You're not a bad one."

"Be serious."

Soul turned to face her. "I'll admit, I wasn't thrilled to room with a girl, especially a flat-chested bookworm, at first," he said bluntly.

The insult stung, but Maka remained focused. "What changed your mind?"

"You." Soul shrugged again. "You're different. In a good way. Simple as that." He turned back and continued to unpack. "Wanna heat up some hot chocolate? Black*Star and Tsubaki should be over soon to see that movie."

"Sure, okay."

* * *

**This morphed and became a thing. I like the thing, but it wasn't the thing it was supposed to be.**

**Review and say if you like the thing!**


	13. Eater

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Soul Eater_**

**Prompt #12: Eater - It's a strange surname to choose, but it did make him sound incredibly cool.**

**Words: 422**

* * *

"Why Eater?"

The question was sufficiently odd enough to make Soul look away from the show he was watching. "Huh? Why Eater what?

"Why pick Eater as a last name?" Maka clarified. "I know Shibusen's naming principles are really lax, but Eater? Really?"

"It's a cool name."

"Really? That's how you're defending it? Because it's cool?"

"And it's accurate." He flashed his sharp teeth in a wide smile. "I eat the souls we hunt."

Maka rolled her eyes and shook her head. "But why change your name at all? Was your old name really that bad?"

Instead of answering her question, Soul merely returned to his show. His usual response of "It was a cool thing to do" wouldn't fly this time. "Those who know it...they expect a lot out of it," he said. "When I left home, I didn't want that expectation to keep following me the rest of my life. Plus, if I don't have the name, nobody has any reason to say I'm shaming it."

"Why would they say that? You're an amazing scythe."

He shook his head. "That's not what people expected from someone in my family." It was a half-answer and he knew it. He also knew it wouldn't deter her for long, but he wanted time to properly explain. Explain what it meant to be an Evans. That answer was for another time, when their fledgling partnership was built on more solid foundations than simply meister and weapon.

Maka poked his shoulder gently to bring his gaze back to her. "Will you...ever tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"Your real name."

He gave a lopsided smile. "Soul actually is my real name. I can't make that shit up."

She didn't smile back. "So, you won't tell me your last name? Why?"

Soul grimaced slightly. "Do you really want to know?"

She looked about to agree, but something in Maka's eyes seemed to realize what he was really asking. They weren't at that stage yet, where they could trade secrets about their pasts as easily as they traded jibes about their personal habits.

So instead, swallowing her curiosity with admirable restraint, Maka only said, "One day I will."

"I'll tell you one day," he promised.

"You'd better." Suddenly she smiled and added, "And anyway, Soul Eater is a pretty cool name."

Soul's own smile was wide enough to show every jagged tooth. "Told ya."

* * *

**My thoughts about the origin of Soul's last name change.**

**Review please! We've passed fifty, let's shoot for a hundred!**


	14. Intimidate

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Soul Eater_.**

**Prompt #13: Intimidate - The boy went pale as a ghost as the blade did its work.**

**Words: 773**

* * *

Carson Hook swallowed nervously as he sat on the sofa waiting for Maka to emerge. The Demon Guisarme had been in several dangerous encounters before, but nothing unnerved him quite as completely as the steady chop-chop-chop of a kitchen blade against a cutting board coming from the kitchen. He tried not to fidget or shudder, but his body decided to betray him and release a tiny shiver.

"You okay over there, Hook?"

"Fine, Eater," he managed to reply in a steady enough tone of voice.

"You sure?" The bastard almost sounded smug, but then again, Eater was _always _cocky. Being a Deathscythe had done nothing to quell his "cool" persona. "You're lookin' a little pale."

Carson glanced over to fire back a sharp retort - and his voice deserted him. Eater was holding a rather large knife with a blade as long as Carson's forearm, absently twirling it in his fingers like a baton. He wasn't even watching the knife's progress, instead giving Carson a rather amused smirk combined with one cocked eyebrow.

"What's the knife for?" Carson flinched when he heard his voice crack slightly.

"Chopping." Eater's smile widened a little to show a few of his unique teeth. "You'd think it'd be obvious."

"What're you chopping?"

"Vegetables. Since you're taking my meister out, I'm on my own for dinner." Amazing how such a blandly delivered statement could make Carson cringe. "You sure I can't get you something?" Eater asked, changing his grip to hold the knife like he was about to stab the Demon Guisarme. "Water? Tea?"

Carson shook his head. "No thanks."

"Well, now that I've got your attention, c'mere for a sec." Eater beckoned the other boy closer with the knife.

_So we're just intimidating the date now, huh?_ Carson swallowed and dredged up every drop of courage he had left before leaving the safety of the couch to willingly put himself within easy striking distance. Weapon he was, but Eater was a Deathscythe, and when a Deathscythe tells you "C'mere" you move closer and ask no questions.

The knife resumed its spinning journey between the spaces of Eater's long fingers. "Now I don't know what you're expecting tonight, but let me lay it out for you. Maka is my meister, and if you bring her home in less than the perfectly happy condition I'm letting you escort out, be assured that our next conversation will not be so amicable. Are we clear?"

Carson's eyes narrowed. "Maka is a big girl. She doesn't need her weapon to fight all her battles."

"I'm not just a weapon. You're a weapon. I'm her Deathscythe partner." The knife stopped spinning again before the Demon Guisarme could react, its point now pressing just below Carson's chin. There was unadulterated rage in those crimson eyes as Eater slowly stated, "You fuck with my meister in any way, shape, or form, and I will show you just how major the difference between you and me is. Got it, Hook?"

"Sorry I'm late!" Maka's voice made Carson quickly look over to where she emerged from her bedroom, dressed in a little black number and looking hotter than hall. "Hey Carson. Did I make you wait long?"

"He and I were just talking." Eater never looked up from the counter, chopping vegetables like nothing had happened. "You two should head out. Your reservations are for seven, right?"

* * *

Soul couldn't help smirking as he watch Maka pull a white-faced Hook out the door with her. Scaring the other weapon had been his intention all along, and it was nice to see that he could still rattle someone with nothing but his sharp teeth and an even sharper blade.

Hopefully Hook would remember this conversation and spread the word through Shibusen. That would weed out the players and the idiots who just wanted to get in his meister's pants. It would also cement his reputation as a scary bastard, not that it needed any more help. After the Battle of the Moon, that needed no reaffirmation.

Twirling the knife expertly in his fingers, Soul let his dangerous smile widen even more. People seemed to think that the only blade Soul was proficient with was his own, which wasn't precisely true. People never considered that he was proficient with knives in general.

"Now, time for dinner," he said to himself, tilting the cutting board and letting the finely chopped vegetables into the pot waiting on the stove.

* * *

**I think any guy ballsy enough to try dating Maka would have to go through Soul's hazing to do so.**

**Review please!**


	15. Grigori

**Disclaimer: _Soul Eater _isn't mine, but I lay full claim to the OC witch who appears.**

**Prompt #14: Grigori - It was like painting a giant target on her back.**

**Words: 940**

* * *

Soul cursed as he and Maka were thrown against the wall. He barely heard Maka asking if he was okay. He felt battered and utterly exhausted from resonating so long, but he forced himself to stay strong and keep playing his soul's piano.

The witch they were fighting, a green-haired buxom woman named Allavalia, was a dangerous rogue who enjoyed manipulating and warping souls into dark and twisted things, and she was an avid collector of what she played with. Too dangerous for the Witches' Mass to send one of their own to take care of her, Mabaa had made a special contract negotiation with Shibusen for this witch to be hunted down.

"Is this the best of Shibusen?" she cackled as she summoned more imp-like creatures wreathed in emerald fire, her hands and arms spread wide in challenge. "I would think a Deathscythe would pack more of a punch." When her magically-glowing eyes landed on Maka, a smile bloomed across Allavalia's face and widened manically.

_Shit, _thought Soul. He recognized greed when he saw it. She'd seen Maka's Grigori soul, and she wanted it.

But he was a Deathscythe, and though Allavalia was strong, even she couldn't bust through Arachne's magical defenses in one go. The Spider Queen's web was the only thing protecting Maka's soul at this point, and the only thing keeping it strong was Soul's music. All his focus was on his melody, trying to keep the music flowing and the Soul Resonance at optimum output.

Maka went in for another attack, but Allavalia countered by sending her fireball imps hurtling towards them like evil comets. Maka sliced through them cleanly and leapt high, trying to gain height and momentum to swing Soul down to perform Witch Hunter.

But then Allavalia jumped up, right in Maka's face and too far inside Soul's reach for him to catch her, and knocked the scythe from Maka's hands. The piano cut out, the web shattered, and Soul plummeted to the ground. He changed back to his human form and twisted in midair to see the green-clad witch grab Maka's neck and start chanting. He saw her green magic flare around her hand and form an aura around Maka. He heard Maka scream.

Calling up every memory of his experiences flying, Soul slammed his hand down on his soul's piano to release a dark, jangling chord. He wasn't capable of fighting as a solo weapon, but he'd learned how to compensate for the rare occasion he was taken from Maka. Long training sessions with Stein and sparring with Black*Star had given Soul an idea how he could manipulate his own wavelength like they did.

From his back spouted the spiky feathered wings he usually gained while flying with Maka, enormous and tinted with black and red. A powerful downward sweep of them halted his descent towards the ground; another downbeat propelled Soul up like a falcon. His one arm transformed into his scythe blade as the wings disappeared, the energy transferring to his blade and honing the edge to razor sharpness. Allavalia never had time to scream when her body was cleanly sliced in half.

Maka barely had time to regain her breath before Soul's arms reached out and pulled her close to his body, turning so that he would cushion her fall. "Maka, Soul Resonance now!"

She didn't stop to question. Their souls resonated with practiced speed, but this time it was Soul designating the form manipulation, not Maka. She couldn't help gasping when their angel wings unfurled from his back, flapping to carry them away from Allavalia as her severed body exploded like a bomb. "What the - " she gasped, clutching at Soul's black jacket and staring at the blue-tinted white wings. "Those - they were black and red before - what - how did - what did you - "

Soul grinned at her impishly. "You're not the only one coming up with new stuff, Maka."

"But you're _flying_," she insisted. "You can't fly, not without me. And not in human form."

"Been training with Stein. Made damn certain that if we get separated, I can save you."

Her cheeks flushed as her fists clenched at her sides. "I don't need you protecting me!" she yelled.

"Didn't you see Allavalia salivating over your Grigori soul? And she just wanted to play around with it. Other people are trying to kill you!" Soul grabbed her chin and forced her to look into his eyes. "I'm not gonna let them. You're _my _angel."

Their feet touched dirt at that moment, so Soul ended the Resonance Link and let his wings dissolve into energy. The light was enough for him to check his meister for any injury. "Okay, you don't look hurt. We should still get Stein to take a look at you." Taking her hand, he tugged her in the direction of his motorcycle. "Let's go home."

"Soul?" The white-haired boy glanced back at Maka. She had an odd, almost awestruck look in her eye. "Did you...really mean that? I'm your angel?"

_Oh yeah, I actually did say that uncool thing. _Fighting to control his blush, Soul nodded.

Maka smiled. "My guardian angel."

Soul scoffed. "I'm a _Demon_ Weapon, Maka. I'm selfish and greedy. I won't let demons or witches or evil humans take you away from me, ever. If I have to steal your wings to save you again, I won't think twice."

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**For clarification, Allavalia is the witch's name from my first _Soul Eater _fic, _Maka's Dark Soul Problem_.**

**Review please!**


	16. Cool

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Soul Eater, _but I do own the OC.**

**Prompt #15: Cool - She hated that word, hated the line it drew between him and her.**

**Words: 644**

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Maka propped her chin on her hand and stared across the back quad, looking for her white-haired roommate. People were clustered in small groups or pairs all over the quad, some in the shade offered by solitary trees or awning by the cafeteria doorway, others stretching out on the grass to soak up the sun between classes.

A headful of snow-white hair caught her attention. She was about to wave and call his name when another person appeared at his side. Maka's stomach burned with acid as she glared daggers at the ponytailed girl. Samara Jones was a beautiful, talented young woman from New York City who had just moved to Nevada. Pretty and smart, she didn't have a single malicious bone in her body, but Maka couldn't help hating her.

Because, in a rare show of interest, Soul had offered to show her around school. Soon Samara was hanging out with Maka and Soul, talking about jazz with him and comparing notes with her. Soul was slowly beginning to spend more time with Samara outside of class, and more recently they'd been heading out to the local jazz club.

It also didn't help that this new girl had a pair of knockers that rivaled even Blair's chest.

Swallowing the hurt and anger bubbling up in her throat, Maka tore her eyes away from the pair and focused on studying for her next test. She didn't have time to think about pointless stuff. Her grades were the most important thing at the moment -

"Hey. Didn't you hear us calling you?" Soul's deep voice broke through her thoughts. She looked up from her book to see her roommate standing at the table, red eyes staring intently at her face.

"Sorry, I didn't," Maka said, half-apologetic. "Hey Samara."

"Hi Maka. You busy?" Samara asked, smiling brightly. "Soul was just suggesting that we go out to that new bistro on Twelfth after school. Wanna come with?"

"I - " She was about to say yes when she noticed the look in Samara's eyes. The look of pleading hope. "Actually, no. Sorry, I've gotta pick up a shift for work this afternoon. You guys go ahead."

"Okay!" Samara said, instantly latching onto Soul's arm. Her boobs squashed against his side as she flashed Maka a grateful smile. "We'll bring you something nice from the bistro, I promise! C'mon Soul!" she said when he started to speak. "It's almost time for Chemistry!"

Maka watched them head back the way they came. She wasn't the only one; many guys actually paused whatever they were doing and turned to watch Samara as she passed.

One finger hooked into the collar of her blouse and tugged it slightly, and her eyes dropped of their own accord to survey her chest. Even though her chest size was definitely smaller than her girlfriends', she was usually content with the fact that she had great legs and a terrific ass (a fact confirmed by the number of guys who ogled her rear whenever she walked past them in the hallways). Usually that was enough to give her hope in her attractiveness.

But Soul had to be different. He had to be cool. Being cool meant everything to him. _Cool guys do this_... _Cool guys don't do that_... Every assurance of his behavior had that stupid word in it. He lived his life by what he thought cool guys ought to do.

And cool guys didn't go for violent, flat-chested chicks like her. He'd said it time and again.

So why bother going up against a pretty nice full-figured girl? No sense at all. Maka knew a losing battle when she saw it.

Her eyes dropped to her textbook and started to read.

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**Another RST-universe fic. Apathetic!Maka just happened.**

**Review please!**


	17. Meeting

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Soul Eater._**

**Prompt #16: Meeting - Neither of them ever regretted what brought them to this moment.**

**Words: 613**

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They were going to die, here, on this plateau, in the rain.

She knew it. He knew it. The creature they were fighting knew it.

The only question was how they would go out.

* * *

I often think about that day I found Soul.

Meister-weapon conventions are often boring events. Unless you know exactly what you're looking for in a partner and you're very, very lucky, it's an exercise in futility. I'd already been to three such events and found no suitable candidates.

Then I saw this sullen-looking, solitary guy standing in the corner with his hands in his pockets and a look of absolute boredom on his face. His nametag identified him as Soul, and the marking beside it classified him as a Demon Scythe.

Despite his gender, I drew closer. A Demon Scythe was rare, and as I wanted to be a scythe meister like Mama, I couldn't afford to be picky. I introduced myself to him, patient as he replied curtly, almost rudely. Clearly he was just as disillusioned with this as I was.

So I asked the words that sealed my fate. "I'd like to learn more about you."

I'll never forget the look in his eyes. Hope, surprise, apprehension, a touch of fear and not a little defiance. His gaze flicked over to the door, fearful and uncomfortable, like a spooked horse looking for a way out.

"Not here," he'd said. "Someplace private."

So we found the café with the piano, he sat down at the keyboard, and with one dark, magnificent song I barely understood, I dared to offer my hand.

* * *

I think about how I met Maka from time to time.

My first week at Shibusen was comprised of standing in the corners of large rooms and watching boring people make meaningless small talk. Nobody wanted to approach me, probably because of my appearance, but thinking back, I really didn't try toning down my coolness.

Then I noticed this bright, cheery-looking girl wandering through the masses with a searching look on her face. The nametag on her flat chest said Maka Albarn and identified her as a meister.

Despite my dislike of strangers, I watched her approach. She had guts, a lot more than most people there, and not a little curiosity in her eyes. She gave her name and a hello, and I merely grunted my own. I thought she was just being polite.

Then she said the words I hadn't expected to hear. "I'd like to learn more about you."

I'll never forget what I felt in that moment. For the first time since discovering my weapon blood, since leaving the Evans name behind, since stepping through the convention door, someone wanted to know about me, Soul. Fear of being judged, as I had been all my life, had me looking for the exit.

"Not here," I'd demanded. "Someplace private."

So she followed me, and we found that café with the piano, and when my blood-chilling song didn't sent her running, I dared to take her hand.

* * *

The confessions, spoken in unison, startled both meister and weapon.

"I've never regretted choosing you."

They locked eyes. Searched for lies. Finding none, they gave their partner a true smile and nodded.

Souls linked in a resonance stronger than any they'd ever achieved before, Maka and Soul let out twin yells of defiance and charged to their deaths.

* * *

They were found by the retrieval team hours later. Their hands were clasped in a grip no one felt the urge to break. They deserved to lie that way.

Together.

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**Ouch, I gave myself feels with this.**

**Review please! Almost to 75, reach for the 100 mark!**


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